Uncanny
by TraipsingExodus
Summary: Tick. Tock.


He had watched her from inception to date. Always, watching. His heart would leap with every glimpse, his mouth would dry with every last attempt at speech. Viciously he fought to rise, to be recognized, for the Institute to see him as more than an amateur Summoner. He wanted to direct a Champion. He wanted to guide her, help her, have the pristine ballerina know that he would do all he could to drive her to victory. Countless battles he would commands waves of mindless drones, walking bounties with no purpose, no emotion, but he did he not complain whenever she glistened above him.

They saw him unbalanced, dangerous even. He would scream in agony when she fell apart-rage so terrible that they would harm the apple in his eye. He would never let anyone harm her; he could guide her perfectly, show her more victories than even the most senior of Summoners could. He petitioned constantly for his promotion, for a chance to prove himself. Each time, they were met with rejection, and the idiots who shook their heads at his passion grew more bothered each time.

He would not let them curtail his drive, his furious passion to preserve her in battle. He petitioned, again and again, honing his skills to direct worthless, empty shells to their meaningless deaths until at last they could deny him reasonably no longer. The scroll he was handed bore apprehensive sentences, informing him of his promotion, and outlining regulations to ensure his imbalance was checked. He did not care, did not snap at the terrified look on the messenger's face, because at last he knew the blissful throes of success. His prize, the silver beauty of his life was within his grasp, and now he need only choose her, tell her of the future he could promise her, and of the unshakeable drive to protect her he had to offer.

Days past, and the aching of his heart grew almost unbearable, but at last, he was Summoned, and in the silent room of many elders, orbs of pure energy rose from the glossy sheen of the tiled ground. It was time to decide who they would Summon, and in turn, direct. Instantly, her perfect face formed in his mind and so too did it form in the orb. Symbols erupted to life behind him and a soft hum filled the room. The Summoners about him mumbled words of disapproval. He had not discussed his decision, had not even made clear whom he had Chosen.

She materialized, the sharp arrows that formed a metal tutu about her waist ticking rhythmically. Her arms pivoted unnaturally to grasp the massive key in her back and wind it. She walked with mechanical grace forward, towards the platform designed for Transferring her to battle, but he stopped her, his heart racing.

"Orianna," he swooned, "At last my dear, at last I have you before me." He gasped for air and his thoughts became a fountain. "I love you, Orianna. I want you, to protect you, to guide you, to ensure that no harm may ever befall you. I love you! I worked towards this position only for you, to keep you always by my side. I will never let you come apart, never have to revive you, you will be forever pristine in my guiding hands."

The automaton considered him before brushing past him.

His heart broke. "But, Orianna, did you not hear what I said? I love you! I love you!" The elder Summoners were repulsed, they chastised his lack of restraint and hissed at his shouting. Two of the more spry of those in attendance convened on him, each grabbing an arm as he made to scramble towards his love. They overpowered him, calls for a replacement were made; the could not let a Champion enter without a Summoner to guide her. Against his furious struggles they dragged him towards the doors of the chamber, his arm reaching futilely out for her, his voice now the shrieks of love denied. The apple of his eye, snatched away from him as he reached to pick it. "Orianna! ORIANNA!"

The doors swung open, and his screaming, sobbing form was dragged forcibly through. With finality they slammed close, a dull thud echoing throughout the now silent chamber, his wails snuffed out.

Again her arms twisted unnaturally behind him, the soft whirring and clicking of clockwork breaking the silence. They grasped the key again and wound it.

"So strange, he screams."


End file.
